


In the Titan -- in a Sparkbeat

by timeless_alice



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: After The Lobotomy, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Body Horror, Dysphoria, Gen, Horror, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Imprisonment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-08 22:10:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18903634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timeless_alice/pseuds/timeless_alice
Summary: Windblade goes into the mind of the eerily silent Titan ship, Carcer, to sate her curiosity. She might not like what she finds once inside.An alternate scene to the one we get in the comic because I said so.





	In the Titan -- in a Sparkbeat

**Author's Note:**

> for various reasons i was reading the end of taao and the whole thing with vigilem didn't sit right with me so i wrote this. it'll probably be part of a larger thing but i wanted to share it now
> 
> Not much to say for background beyond "she just did this because she was curious" with no starscream stuff

There was nothing waiting for Windblade when she stepped into the mind of the quiet Titan. She stood in the stagnant black that spread for miles in all directions. No ground, no sky, just an endless void.

Her feet touched no ground, though her turbines did not whirl to life to allow her a modest hover. And a quick glance downward provide her with a glimpse of her frame, illuminated despite the lack of any kind of light source. She frowned at the sight, running a hand over her chest and flicking her wings to swat away the disquiet that was beginning to creep under her seams to prick along her endo-skeleton. Then, with a quick rattling of her plating, she pressed onward.

It was a strange feeling. There was no friction with each step, just a foot lift from the ground and moving forward with no indication she was moving at all. She folded her arms, picking at the paint and poking at an itch that settled into her bicep, nestled among the wires and thus just out of her reach unless she wanted to claw off her framework. The sensation was pushed to the back of her mind as she continued a search for a sign of anything existing there at all.

At the very least, she wished to know if she was making any progress at all. The landscape around her remained stagnant, her feet finding no purchase on the ground that did not seem to be there. Like she was walking on nothing but air, though at the very least air provided some kind of resistance. The wind buffeting her wings, gravity itself pushing against her as she flew; invisible, but tangible things. In this space, there was nothing but her. A corner of her mind wondered what would happen if she jumped; would she float upward and never come back down?

With a short huff of her cooling vents, pushing out air that may or may not exist, she shook those thoughts from her head. She stilled her hand, which was continuing to pick at the framework of her arm, a finger testing the edge of the seam as if to dig under it. The oppressive Nothing was getting to her, setting her with an acute sense of Wrong. But she could ignore it, she had to, to find Carcer. And, for all she knew, this was how his mind was, for one reason or another. Perhaps things would seem less strange the closer she got to him; after all, she had never ventured into the mind of anyone, let alone a Titan.

That's what she told herself, at least.

She continued on. There was no way to tell how long she had been walking, as her internal chromometer gave her nothing of value. Nonsense numbers and lettering that jumped around and glitched the more she looked and the harder she focused. So she stopped trying.

It felt like bugs had crawled under her plating.

The thought crossed her mind to transform, to traverse the landscape in flight to cover more ground. Perhaps that was the only way to make any progress at all. Maybe she would become stuck, her joints and pistons and all gumming together until she could hardly twitch a wing. This line of thinking trailed in circles, curling around her mind to tighten its grip on her. Looping and twisting in on itself, ideas growing more morbid with each passing, immeasurable second. She tried to Ignore it all. Her hug around herself tightened, plating folding close against her to brace against the darkness.

"Hello?" She ventured out a call, and her own voice echoed. Everywhere at once, filling every corner of the vast expanse of nothing like light flooding a shadowed room. It faded in her ears, swallowed up by the black. It made her bristle, but she tried again, though she kept her voice at a lower volume. "I'm Windblade of Caminus, a cityspeaker." She paused, to let the booming thrum of her voice go silent once again. She didn't flinch, that time. "We speak to Titans, and I'd like to talk to you, if you'd let me."

Nothing. Just more of the same. She continued walking, fingertips tapping a staccato against her forearms. A desire to rid herself of that tightness that was bearing down on her and biting at her internals. She worried, however briefly, that if she kept picking at her paint and metal, marks would appear on her physical form, so she stilled her hands even as they itched to bury in again.

She could have been walking for hours. It could have just been minutes. She had no idea, but as the clock ticked ever on a weight pressed against her. Settled into her chest, pushing against her spark to choke her out. She ignored it, reminding herself with the practiced calm of a well trained cityspeaker and ambassador, that she was just in someone's head. Rationalizations poked through her thoughts, reminders that Carcer could simply be private. Perhaps he had defenses to out intruders; Titans did hold entire civilizations on their person, it would make sense.

A finger idly traced against her arm, wishing to tear into the metal. To get rid of that feeling of Wrong. She caught the thought and stopped it dead in its track before the desire could be acted on.

She considered pulling out and letting sleeping dogs lie.

She kept going.

Suddenly, there was a blip on the horizon. Just a simple shape, too far away for her to make out with any detail. Nonetheless, Windblade smiled. After a few more steps, she broke into a sprint, hoping to cover the distance. But like before, the run felt frictionless. Like she was pushing off the ground to float for several seconds before touching back down and repeating the process. 

The shape drew ever closer, even though she felt as if she was making no progress. It took the form of another person, kneeling on the ground, but she couldn't make out much more than that. Just a golden figure, and for all she knew it could just be a statue of some kind. Why a Titan would have one in his mental landscape was beyond her, but she would not question it. There was only a sense of relief coiling in her spark at the sight of something, anything, in the void.

The figure began to take more shape. It was certainly a bot on his knees, his arms laying on top of his legs and hands dangling loosely. His head was bowed, chin almost resting on his chest as if it was too heavy for his neck to support. Windblade slowed back to a walk, head tilting to one side as she took him in. The kibble he bore did not match the ship she was currently inside; in fact he was far smaller, even ignoring how the mental space put him at a closer scale to her. He was sleeker and more angular, lacking the bulk that Carcer's hull had; about half the size of the ship, if she had to wager a guess. 

She scratched at her arm.

"Carcer?" she whispered, voice a hissing wind that stretched out around her and sent chills down her spine. Not a proper addressing, but rather a statement of disbelief. She rose her voice, called out, "Hello?"

At the sound of her voice, carrying across to him with ease, the figure twitched. A light flick of the spiny kibble at his back, more like he was flicking away an irritant than acknowledge her. He did not look up, even as she approached. Like she were not even there.

"Carcer," she tried again, mere yards away from him. "I am Windblade of Caminus, and I'm a cityspeaker. I'd like to talk to you...?"

Carcer - and she was so sure this must be Carcer - did not move. Did not so much as twitch. He was still, as still as the black that felt so oppressive as it bore down against Windblade. Creeping into her seams and coiling in her joints and edging ever closer to her spark until she wanted nothing more than to claw out of her own plating just to make the sensation stop.

It wasn't real. This wasn't real, merely projections of sensations and nothing more. She tucked it back as far as she could in her mind, straightening her arms by her sides, flexing her fingers to alleviate the want to scratch. With all her willpower, she tried her damnedest to slip into her persona of a diplomat. Each step that closed the distance was self-assured and poised, even if Carcer seemed to take no notice of her. Trapped in his own little world, even in his mind.

Even from the angle he was sitting in, she could tell he was handsome, by certain standards. Angular crests atop his head, sleek framework that would not have put him out of place among the old Cybertronian senator class. His coloring was a flattering combination of pale golden orange and blue, a far cry from the muted orange of Carcer's hull.

Halting a mere arm's length away from him, she reached low to place a hand on his shoulder when he still gave to acknowledgement of her presence. Under her palm she could feel his plating shift, an instinctive reaction to her physical contact with him. But that was all there was, and she frowned. He was hot to the touch, and as she leaned close she could hear gentle whirrings of cooling fans working to keep his systems from overheating. Further still, she noticed a rich golden liquid dripping from his face and towards the ground, though it vanished into thin air before it could strike the floor or his plating. A cooling agent, perhaps?

"Carcer?" she tried, in a soft, concerned voice, and this time her voice did not echo. As she stood before him, the whole world tightened around the two. She bristled, but pushed it aside. She was going to see this through, or else the whole escapade was a waste.

Against her better judgement, and against everything she knew as a Cityspeaker, she moved her hand to gently tap at Carcer's chin with two feather light fingers. Then, she lifted so that they could be eye to eye.

And there was nothing there. 

Eyes that were a bright pinkish-purple stared back at her, that liquid streaming from them in an endless flow. Perhaps once sharp and intelligent, they now regarded her without a trace of truly  _ seeing _ her. No flicker of understanding at all. Just the natural instinct of watching.

She let go, staggering back as something akin to terror gripped at her spark until she lost her footing and landed flat on her rear, hands scrambling at that ground free of friction as she back away. And Carcer, which desperate clawing thoughts informed her was not Carcer in the strictest sense, simply stared. Stared at her with those vacant eyes, his mouth partly open in a slackjawed expression. Still not taking in what he was seeing. 

Her cooling fans spun to life and her plating pressed against her frame, a physical reaction to match the phantom tightness that was only increasing. Thoughts chased around in her head, curiosity gnawing at her with all its morbid sensibilities as she wondered what had happened here. He was a Titan, duty bound to the citizens who lived within his walls; so why was he like this? It was like something had reached in and scooped everything out, leaving just a wind up doll who danced through the motions until the key needed to be rewound, and those in possession no longer found interest in the toy.

To say nothing at all of the modifications present to his physical form.

Hands curling into fists, tips of her fingers clawing into her palms, she forced herself to take him in. And that's when she noticed it, a detail lost in the initial panic. Just below his eyes, under the ever flowing trail of golden liquid, were markings. Like those that she bore, like those of Caminus. Red and curved and horribly familiar, now almost mocking. A sign of those who spoke to Titans, a sign of high respect, on the face of a Titan who seemed for all the world to be completely unaware of the space he resided in.

"What happened to you?" she asked, so soft the words almost made no sound. "Carcer?"

Her cooling fans, whirring a violent storm that echoed endlessly in the expanse, were the only sound for several seconds. The thought that she should abort, take time to gather herself before looking for answers on the outside, pressed itself to the forefront of her mind. But then, in a gradual way that drew her attention to it in slow, almost agonizing seconds, Carcer shifted. A faint shake of kibble, so slight that it would have gone unnoticed if not for the fact he was totally immobile otherwise. And then, the slightest of tilting to his head, just by the fraction of a degree. She did not know if she was imagining the quizzical glint to his eye.

"Please talk to me," she said, sitting up right to lean towards him, hoping to break through to him. Clinging to that perception of understanding. "That's what I'm here for."

The mouth closed, ever so slightly, ever so slowly. The world around her shook, a mild tremble of a thing that still rattled her plating. In her periphery, Windblade could see structures beginning to fold out of the black: miles away, covered by a thick fog and shapes obscured otherwise, but they were something on the horizon. Her spark fluttered with relief, and she smiled, letting out a low laugh as she looked around her.

But then her attention drifted back to Carcer. And the expression on his face chilled her fuel lines and froze her joints. His eyes narrowed, intelligent glow having seeped back in with an added fury, with his mouth curled back in a snarl.

"Why are you here." A question posed as a biting statement, spoken in a voice that sounded like it raked over hooks. The sound of disuse, she thought with a jolt, rasping and harsh and dripping with anger.

"I'm a Cityspeaker," she repeated. "We speak to Titans. I wanted to speak to you." It was a struggle to keep her voice calm, keep it level.

Carcer stood, mechanical and slow like he had to tell each individual part what to do. Joints creaking and legs unsteady, stumbling as he came to his full height, though it didn't negate how imposing he was.

"I'm not here to hurt your colony," she said, moving to get to her feet. He did nothing, but she could feel him watching, that prickling sensation trailing down her spine until she was able to look at him in full once again. "I just wanted to talk, Carcer, I-"

He swelled, plating puffing out and hands tightening into fists. "My name. Isn't.  _ Carcer!"  _ His voice boomed, and the place shook, so fierce this time that it almost knocked Windblade off balance. Her turbines kicked into gear and she held her ground, unwavering before him.

"Then tell me what it is," she said in a careful tone, wary but with concern continuing to prick along her arms. She took a step back, one that was more of a hover than anything else, prepared to draw her sword. Prepared to pull out of the mental link, should things continue to spiral downward; though she didn't know what kind of grasp he had on her, in this mental space of his.

He took a step towards her, arms moving with a halting motion so he could wipe away at the liquid running down his face but unable to stop it's flow. His form shimmered around the edges, the smallest bit of distortion that faded back to solid like it had never happened at all. And he frowned, examining his hand as the gold tripped from his fingers, the look of anger faltering just a fraction of a second. He gave no answer, his eyes narrowing as if the answer to such a thing was alluding him. 

"Why have they taken my name from me," he said, and there was a strange agonized quality to his words.

"If you tell it to me," she said, filing further questions about the "who" away for later, "I'll use it."

"Vigilem." Anger, hot and boiling enough to make the air turn stifling, though he wasn't looking at her. Windblade wasn't even sure it was directed at her. "I was once called Vigilem."

And that's when it sunk in. She lost her balance, before catching herself and falling into a fighting stance, but he was no longer paying attention to her. This Titan, servant to the treacherous Liege Maximo and as much a cautionary tale as anything else to her people, was staring into the distance. Towards the buildings that had taken shape on the horizon, and she dared a glance in their direction before locking her eyes back on him. The shapes had wavered, threatened to fold back into the inky black around them as if they had never been there at all, while some gained more detail before they too slipped away.

"What have they done to me," he whispered, a growl low in his chest. "Why can't I-"

He cut himself off, his kibble growing taught as his whole body tensed, eyes still on the shapes in the distance. Concentrating to bring them into sharp focus, only for the details to come and go in fluctuating waves; she could see the trails on his face bubbling and steaming, and his cooling fans grew ever louder. Then he relaxed, whole body going slack with a soft gasp, and Windblade could see panic making its way across his features.

"You aided in killing a Prime." She spoke firmly, tucking away her fear so that he would have no idea of its existence. But for all she knew, he was aware of it anyway, her being an alien force inside of his head, after all. "Is this your punishment?"

The spines at his back flicked, and he began to mutter a desperate "no" in a frantic mantra as he turned to look around his mindscape. There was something moving now, among the silhouettes of the buildings. Hulking things, their shapes all wrong to be his fellow Titans. Tendrils reached through the fog to wrap around the spires and skyscrapers, pulling themselves along.

She needed to get out, but something was rooting her to the spot. Her fingers scraped along her arms and tucked under the seams at her elbows, ready to pull the metal free from the wires underneath. She hardly realized she was doing it, all she knew was that itching feeling had redoubled and it was only the soft twinges of pain that broke through to her. With a soft gasp of alarm, she stopped herself, shaking out her hands and shifting her plating to make sure it all aligned correctly.

"What could I have ever done to deserve this," Vigilem said. "I would  _ never _ ..."

His voice trailed off into nothing and his body distorted. Portions of him twisted and tore like some crude graphical error and became Carcer's outer hull, doubling his size and bulk and crowding around what seemed to be his original frame. Desperate, clawing hands pried at these new additions as Vigilem let out a frustrated cry laced through with panic, scrambling to free himself of the modifications.

The world changed from Nothing to a purplish-pink, as if a filter had been placed over Windblade's eyes that made even herself and Vigilem varying shades of the color. Slowly, like it had been waiting under his plating for this moment, a visor seeped from Vigilem's face and covered his own eyes, halting the fall of that golden liquid at last. It was not long before he was pulling at this, too, body continuing to fluctuate between the two forms. It was like she was not even there anymore.

Windblade took several steps back, her sense of cultural pride warring with the worry that was beginning to take root in her spark; this was Vigilem, the black hearted Titan, but this did not sit right with her.

"Vigilem...?" He had collapsed to his knees, body settling back to his smaller - original - frame, hands pulling at his head so it was close to his chest. His cooling fans were going at full tilt, and Windblade could hear soft, panting keens. She wasn't sure he heard her, so she tried again, "Vigilem. What happened."

He uncurled, raising his head to look up at her, visor fading away and taking the filter with it bit by bit. The fear was evident in his eyes and set of his mouth. There was confusion there, too. "I don't-- I can't...I can't remember."

Windblade's spark ached despite herself and everything she had learned through her life. She knew, of course, that Liege Maximo and his Titan were silver tongued liars, but there was something so vulnerable about his tone and expression that it was hard for her to take this as a lie. And she could feel it, what she now understood to be a disconnect between her and her own body, an alienation that demanded she crawl out of her plating just to be free of it.

She knelt before him and took hold of one of his hands, holding it gently between hers. His eyes wandered to look at her, mouth closing into a hard line, jaw tensing so fiercely that she half expected to hear something snap. She never did.

"It's okay," she said, as softly as she could, in the tone she used for Metroplex on his worst days. "I can help."

He was silent for a long moment, searching her face before he spoke, "Caminus."

"What about him?" she asked, recalling the bad relationship the two had. She frowned at him; surely he wasn't accusing him of something so horrendous. But then again, his tone implied nothing of the sort, it was just a simple statement.

"You look like him," Vigilem said, sounding a million miles away, millions of years away. He touched his facial markings, so like Caminus', then moved to touch hers, stopping just shy of contact. His head tilted to the side. "Who are you?"

"I'm Windblade of Caminus," she told him. "Cityspeakers take on his markings, to honor him."

"Caminus..." He nodded, though she wasn't sure he fully comprehended what she had said. His eyes were beginning to dim once again, and his reaching hand dropped to the ground. The one she held went slack.

"Listen. I'm going to go and figure out what's wrong," she told him, giving him a squeeze. Those eyes, understanding fading and taking with it the distant buildings, turned to watch her. "And I'll help you, I promise."

A sudden surge of strength, a final surge before everything once again went inert, and he was holding her fast. "Don't leave me." Voice trembling with fear, threadbare and raw, his eyes watered. He was - and had always been, since before she had even gotten there - crying. "I don't want to be alone."

He faded faster still, letting go of her despite tenacious fingers trying to find purchase on her plating. She held his cheek, trying to keep eye contact with him even as he stopped truly seeing.

"I promise I'll help you," she said. "No one deserves this." 

Vigilem, loyal to a fault towards his Prime but also the youngest of the Titans. Scared and trapped and hollowed out, surely a punishment that did not suit the crime. And she thought, as a shudder passed over her spinal strut, that even if his true crime had been more sinister than what she had been taught, this was no way to treat someone.

She disengaged, finding herself back in Vigilem's vacant brain chamber none the worse for wear. The sensation of wrong evaporating from her frame only to be replaced with a different sense of wrong. Of the knowledge that she was standing in the body of one no longer in control of himself. She could not flee fast enough from his halls, ignoring the looks of those she passed until she was outside in the Cybertronian air. 

Before any could see her, get a look at her distress, she took a moment to collect herself. Slip into the poise of a diplomat. She began towards her apartment.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> i am timelessmulder on tumblr
> 
> title is a play on the song "in the house in a heartbeat"


End file.
